


Il Gioco dell'Impiccato

by Random_ag



Series: from the Secret Unpublished Works of Joey Drew [9]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Angst, Blood, Cannibalism, Choking, Dismemberment, Eating, Gore, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Revival Through Questionable Means, Self-Harm, Self-Mutilation, Shit goes down, Suicidal Thoughts, TIME TO UPDATE THE TAGS BOYS, all in all goddamnit, and joey has no impulse control and decides to try every wrong thing possible, kim didnt mean it, somebody died, somebody left
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2020-03-06 09:54:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18848668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_ag/pseuds/Random_ag
Summary: "This is what you'll see forever." he grinned. His teeth were dirtied with a dark hue. Something - Joey didn't want to even try and imagine what - dribbled down his chin and onto his rib."Stuck in your eyelids, forever."His head fell back against the wall with a weak, wheezy laugh that shook his whole body, or at least every single part that remained."I win." he whispered."Finally. I win."





	1. Sveglio

Grey eyes.

Kind of round.

He breathed in sharply and felt a horrible pain in his chest.

 

“Not that fast, dear,” the voice spoke with a smile, “Your sternum isn’t fully formed yet, you might poke a lung! And we don’t want that, now, do we?”

 

He gave a low growl. He could feel his arms and legs returning to be part of his mind, as if a bunch of ants were slowly uncovering them.

The voice grinned wider and grabbed him with great care, dragging him somewhere that felt like fabric. It was slow, limping. Something moved uncomfortable inside his chest; he tried to scratch it away.

 

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s just your heart. It must be growing in right now… How exciting, isn’t it?”

 

He didn’t answer. His brain pounded hard against his temples, and he fainted.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Gap-toothed smile.

So big and large and damned.

His eyes fell from it onto the leg.

 

“So?” Joey asked, eyes wide and waiting like those of a child, “How are you feeling? Everything alright? Something missing?”

 

He didn’t answer, mesmerized by the empty space between the calf and the crutch. The animator followed his gaze to his own body, chuckling as he wiggled his right thigh aimlessly: “Oh, this? This is nothing to worry about. Things changed a little while you were gone, you know? Don’t worry, I had some docs cut it off for me. You didn’t think I did that myself, right? If that were the case, boy!, I don’t think I’d be standing here with you today. Ah, but it was necessary! That was a bad leg, I tell you! Won’t stop polio, but at least-”

 

“ **I died.** ”

 

Joey shut his mouth.

 

“ **I wasn’t ‘gone’. I died.** ”

 

They stared into each other’s eyes. Like they were trying to defy each other.

 

“ **I died.** ” he repeated, and his voice crackled through his throat.

 

“That’s… A very bad way to put it.”

 

“ **I died.** ”

 

“Almost, yes, but not completely! You’ve been alive, just not continuously.”

 

“ **I hung myself.** ”

 

“Again, only almost-”

 

“ **I _hung myself!_** ” he roared. Something infinitesimally small and black was spat from his mouth.  “ **My neck broke. I died. I am dead. Forever.** ”

 

Joey pointed his crutches towards him and took what he could have called a step, eyes still big and smile still wide. He crawled away from him, attempting to restore the distance between them; but he was against a wall.

 

“Calm down, now.” the animator reassured him, inching closer, “This is normal. You wake from a long period of black and think you died and came back to life. The doc warned about this. Very common in cases like yours, he said. Some even go mad and try to die for real! But don’t worry. I’ll make sure you won’t suffer to that point. I’ll make sure you heal up completely and snap out of this little fantasy you’re having.”

 

His pale hand passed through brown hair, as the one he was coddling hissed.

But Joey smiled gently. How cute, he thought as he comfortingly ran his fingers on his guest’s head, watching him squirm in the corner he’d stuck himself into. He can’t even move his limbs properly yet. He can’t even push me away.

 

Eska growled again, with death in his eyes.


	2. Cosciente

“How are you feeling today?”

 

“ **I want to die.** ”

 

“Now, now. You’ll never recover with that attitude. Is the bed nice?”

 

“ **I want to die.** ”

 

“I know how bad not being able to move can be. But you’ll have to endure it for a while. The trauma will pass soon, and you’ll get off that mattress and into the world perfectly fine, I promise you.”

 

Joey caressed his cheek, fatherly. He hissed; he would have turned and bit his finger, if his neck hadn’t hurt with every movement.

 

“ **I want to die.** ” he whimpered, “ **I died, I was dead. I want to be dead again.** ”

 

“It’s gonna get better. I promise you. It’s gonna get better.”

 

“ **I want to die.** ”

 

“You will get better.”

 

“ **I want to die.** ”

 

“You will get better.”

 

There was no point in arguing. He breathed in, angrily, and grinded his teeth.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You think he’s stupid.”

 

Joey turned, eyes big and innocent: “I don’t.” he replied, surprised, “Why would you think that?”

 

“Because you do.”

 

The animator grinned at him. “Continue.” he incited.

 

“You think he can’t tell what’s happening.”

 

“It  _is_  kind of strange and farfetched, this whole thing.”

 

“You think he’ll trust you.”

 

Joey stood up suddenly, making him flinch.

 

“And why shouldn’t he?” the head of Joey Drew Studios asked, stepping closer with every single sentence, “I’m trying to help. I always have. I care about him. You think I wouldn’t, after seeing how his life was? How miserable and horrible? With every day being a fight between him and his own mind, making nightmares from which he couldn’t wake up?”

 

He gulped, and tried to stand his ground.

 

“I went to see where he lived. Did you know he wasn’t some sort of bat, infesting our vents? Did you know he had a home? I do, because I went to see it. And  _that-_ Oh, dear  _God_ , I couldn’t have called that a home if I had been  _desperate_.”

 

They were so close. Joey, even hunching and leaning towards the wall to keep himself up, looked down on him.

 

“You didn’t know where he lived, did you? Why’s that? How come you never knew? How come you never helped him?”

 

He couldn’t breathe. He hadn’t know. Why, he had no idea. He just hadn’t known. He never asked. He should have. He could have. He was supposed to.

He lowered his eyes, thoughts spiraling in his mind.  _He was supposed to._

 

The hand on his shoulder made him stiffen his entire body.

 

Joey smiled down at him, eyes half-lidden to form a convincing, comforting, understanding grimace: “We’ve lost people, you and I. People we loved and cared for more that anybody else. Isn’t it wonderful, then, that one of them is with us right now? That one of them, we saved? You and I. We saved one of those we thought gone forever, you and I. And that with him, we can bring another one back. Mine, I’ve lost hope, but  _ours…_ We can bring her back.”

 

He didn’t answer. There was something genuine, in those words. But he couldn’t make out which parts were which.

Turning his back to him, Joey stumbled to his seat, satisfied.

 

A weak voice reached his ears: “He’s never trusted you before. Why should he start now?”

 

“You know what, you’re right. Say, then, should I tell him who introduced me to the Gods I called?”

 

The animator smirked at his fearful eyes and pale face.

 

“Remember for _whose happiness_ this is happening, Grosso.”

 

Kim bit his lip until it bled and left the room, unable to stand Joey’s smile.


	3. Panico

He walked round and round in circles, like an animal in a cage. The room he’d been secluded in felt like one, either way.

 

“Your legs are doing good I see!” the voice smiled. He grunted, and kept walking.

 

“Would you like to go outside? You must be getting bored.”

He grunted again, waving his arms in front of his body as if he was attacking something. Every time they came into his field of vision it only helped making him angrier and angrier.

 

“I could bring you something, if you want. You just need to tell me.”

 

“ **Pencil.** ”

 

“Hm?”

 

“ **I want a pencil.** ”

 

Joey’s smile widened and in his eyes was a look of pure joy: “Of course,” he replied, grinning more and more, “Of course, of course, I’ll be back in a second. How much paper do you want?”

 

“ **None.** ”

 

“Then where are you going to draw?”

 

“ **I won’t draw.** ”

 

“Write, then?”

 

“ **I won’t write.** ”

 

“What else can you do with a pencil?”

 

He grunted more and mumbled something angrily.

 

“What was that?”

 

“ **I want a pencil. A sharp pencil.** ”

 

“Alright, but what for?”

 

“ **To shove it in my neck and bleed out on the floor.** ”

 

Joey furrowed his brows, furious. He showed him his teeth, or maybe he would have, if he hadn’t had the mask on.

 

“You won’t get better if you hold onto-”

 

“ **I want to die.** ”

 

“Eska-”

 

“ **I want to die. I was dead, I want to die, I want to stay dead. I want to die.** ”

 

“You have a lot of nerve to keep on saying that.” the animator warned him, “This is a bad idea. You’re kicking against facts! You can’t have died if you’re here with me right now, can you?”

 

“ **I want to die. Death caught me and I want it back.** ”

 

“It did not! You almost killed yourself, yes, but now you’re here, in the world of the living! You slept for a while in critical conditions and now you’re alive! Dear goodness, why won’t you listen to me? We were worried! We thought you would have never waken up!”

 

“ **I died. I want to die. Die! I want to die and go back into the Earth.** ”

 

“Stop saying that! You think it will help you heal?”

 

“ **I died. I can’t heal. I died.** ”

 

“You did not! Stop repeating that- and don’t you dare grind your teeth at me!”

 

Grind you teeth. Teeth. How can he see. Teeth. Under mask. How can he. Teeth. Mask. Mask? Mask is. Over teeth. Covering teeth. How dare you grind teeth. How dare. Teeth. Grinding teeth. Under the mask. But he can see. Teeth? Teeth of the mask? No. No. Makes no sense. Teeth. How dare you gring your teeth. How dare. Mask covers teeth. Covers teeth. Covers face. Away from eyes. Away from parents. Mask. To not be recognized. Mask. Covers teeth. Teeth? Mask? His hands flew to his face. He felt something wet, and teeth, and again something wet. No wood. No wood. No mask. How dare you grind your teeth.

 

 

He screamed.

 

 

He fell to the floor, his arms locking his head in an attempt to protect it from everything outside, and he screamed. Something grabbed him, and he jolted away from it, hiding his face as much as he could, and he screamed. He’d seen it, he’d seen it from the start, he’d taken a good, good look at it, he could have recognized him anywhere, and he screamed. His head was forced into an embrace as Joey spoke softly to soothe him, and he cried hard and screamed, scratching him all over until he couldn’t breathe.

He sobbed hard and screamed and bit the arm as a hand pet his head and a voice reassured him everything was alright. His eyes turned to Joey’s grey ones, pleading, tears flowing madly down the pitch black face.

 

“ **Let me die…** ” he begged, heartbroken, desperate, “ **Let me die…** ”

 

Joey held him closer.

 

“ **I want to die… I want to die…** ”

 

“Hush, hush, you’re going to be fine. Everything will be fine.”

 

“ **I just want to die…** ”

 

“Everything is going to be better. I promise you.”

 

“ **Please…** ”

 

 

For the first time in the weeks that had passed, Joey felt a knot tie in his throat.

 

 

“ **Please…** ”

 

“Shh, shh. Don’t… Don’t cry, everything is… Everything will be fine.”

 

“ **Please, let me die…** ”

 

“Uncle Joey will make everything better. Promised.”

 

The animator held him close until he quieted down, losing conscience, but still sobbing and hiccupping. He thought of his sketches. Of how he didn’t have the guts to look at the face between the flowers in the casket.

 

For a moment, he gave in.

 

Joey made the room into a cage. From behind the thick glass dividing it in half, he watched Eska sleep, tears dried up. His face leaked ink on the floor.


	4. Testardo

He whimpered in the corner. There was a black pool between his knees growing larger with every passing second, as dense as petroleum.

 

“Eska.”

 

He winced, curling into himself more with a wail. Joey looked at him from behind the glass, his entire weight laying on his crutches.

 

“Please, I know you can hear me. I only want you to get better.”

 

A loud sob. He was melting in tears. That couldn’t have possibly been good for his constitution.

 

“If it can help, nobody has-”

 

But he drowned his voice with a cry: “ ** _YOU HAVE!_** ” and with the cry came a tear-filled rage that broke part of the wall, “ _ **YOU HAVE!**_ ” and he charged at the glass, his head low, and while it made a horrible noise it didn’t leave a single crack.

The animator almost fell backwards for the scare, but managed to stand his ground. Through the hair falling on his damp with tears face Joey caught a glimpse of eyes burning with hatred.

 

“ _ **You have.**_ ” he snarled through teeth so gritted they were about to break.

 

Joey swallowed air roughly. He watched him slide down the other side of the glass and curl himself in a ball.

 

“Nobody has seen your face.”

 

“ **Liar.** ”

 

“I’m not lying.”

 

“ _ **Liar.**_ ”

 

“You’ve touched it. It feels liquid, doesn’t it?”

He didn’t answer.

 

“It drips, right?”

He didn’t answer.

 

“It’s a coverage. Like a mask, but not solid. Your face is almost completely smeared with it. I couldn’t see it if I tried. The only things I can make out are just your eyes and teeth.”

He didn’t answer.

 

“Nobody ever saw your face.”

He didn’t answer.

 

“Nobody.”

He didn’t answer.

 

“I swear.”

He didn’t answer.

 

“Eska, dear God, look at me.”

He didn’t answer.

 

“Please, I need you to collaborate. I can’t help you if you don’t even look at me.”

He didn’t answer.

 

“Can’t you hear me? I know you can. Come on. I know you can speak to me. Why won’t you let me help?”

He didn’t answer.

 

“Answer me.”

He didn’t answer.

 

“It’s for your own good. Just for your good. I need you to be feeling ok, to be alright. We’ve been worried. Terribly. You have no idea how horrible it’s been, having to wait and hope for you to wake up. We could barely think straight. It’s a relief that you’re alive. But God, I wish you were ok.

 

I’ll get you a new mask. How does that sound? A brand new mask to put on your face. Wouldn’t that be nice? I can start looking for it, but I need you to help me help you. I can’t read your mind. I can’t know exactly what you wish for and what will make you better. Please, please don’t say you want to die. Don’t say that’s the only thing you want or need or anything like that. Don’t say it. I’m begging you. Don’t. Please.

 

It’s just for you. I’m doing this for you, and you only. But I can’t do anything if you don’t let me in. Please, Eska.

 

You need to trust me.”

 

He didn’t answer.

 

Joey stood in front of the glass some more minutes, still as a rock, waiting for a response that had no wish to come out of the body cradling itself on the floor. It was only with a long, soft sigh that the animator finally desisted.

He remained unmoved as the door closed, as the dark on his face fell onto the floorboards. He traced a line with his finger through the black liquid.

Something was going on.

 

Help him. Just to help him.

 

Everything just for him.

 

He had to trust him.

 

Had to trust him.

 

Trust him.

 

 

“ ** _Liar._** ” he whispered to himself.


	5. Int_r_ssant_

_The first thing that came to Joey’s mind on the matter was flowers._

_Flowers clutched in his hand._

_How hard it was to hold flowers in his hand while advancing on crutches._

_Joey coudn’t have gone with his wheelchair, so he went with his crutches._

_Joey hadn’t even heard of the prothesis yet, so he went with his crutches._

 

_Should Joey have been there, flowers in hand, stammering over to her? Should Joey have been there, knowing she probably wouldn’t have wanted him? Should Joey have been there, though his presence could have just upset her more?_

 

 _The flowers were orange and blue. Lilies and peonies._  

_Joey thought they’d be nice._

 

_Not a word was spoken before, while and after he put them down. Joey’s hand reached for her shoulder to rub it and provide even just a hint of comfort._

_She didn’t even flinch. As if there had been nothing touching her._

_Joey saw Henry, later, when it all had ended and people were  starting to leave. Holding her. Offering his old friend a shoulder to cry on._

_They’d keep in contact, they’d promised each other. They’d write letters, they’d promised each other. They’d manage to stay close, even when work would get harder, even when life would get tougher, even when time would become less and less, they’d promised each other._

_He didn’t move. Just watched them from afar, like the visitor of a museum staring at relics of an ancient past that cannot be touched, but merely contemplated, reflected on, missed, longed for._

 

_It was sunny._

_It was sunny, and Joey felt very clearly a horrifying vacuum inside and around himself as he looked at his old hertbroken friends, standing and sobbing a hundred feet away, without getting closer._

 

_It was sunny, and Joey felt terribly, terribly alone._

 

 

* * *

 

 

He hadn’t gotten any food, he realized.

 

And he wasn’t hungry.

 

How come he wasn’t hungry? He’d always been. He had every reason to be. And yet, he wasn’t hungry. He couldn’t remember the last thing he’d eaten, the date on which he’d had a meal, how long ago had water last blessed his throat: and yet, he wasn’t hungry, nor thirsty.

 

He scratched himself.

He should have been hungry. Deadly so.

 

He scratched a little harder.

He could feel hunger build up as a reflex. Good. 

 

He scratched his palm.

What could he have eaten? There was nothing.

 

He stopped scratching.

Of five fingers, he could have gone without one.

 

He bent his left pinky a couple of times, just for the sake of having it do something for the last time in its existence.

 

He would have managed having just one.

 

 ** _C l a c k!_** , it went, sharp and unbearable, or so it should have been. And hurt it did, but not as much as he would have thought.

 

He stared at the severed stump as his teeth broke phalanges to swallow them.

 

They tasted bitter, like endive.

And they smelled awfully strong.

From the wound fell a dark, familiar liquid.

 

Eska stared at it for a long time. Part of his face (smeared with the same pure black pouring from his hand) twisted into a wide, toothy grin.

 

**How interesting.**


	6. D_l_re

God it hurt.

 

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

God it hurt.

**Something ought to taste better.**


	7. Fur_a

He ran through the sketches again.

 

Joey loved to sketch his employees, didn’t he? Such a bunch of characters made for an easy way to practice anatomy, shapes, poses, expressions. Sometimes he would make short comics that would have to resign never to be finished, some he just doodled parts, maybe of his own body. He kept going back and forth between realism and rubberhose several times in the same page, trying out a variety of styles so colorful they gave the dull traces of the grey pencil’s graphite point a rainbow-like quality, as if they could leap out and exist. There would be papers featuring the portraits of a good dozen people and others entirely dedicated to only one subject.

 

Eska was one of his favourites

 

There was something, Joey liked to say, something about that skeletal frame, about those big glowing eyes that would stare endlessly without a word and the strange gangly way the factotum moved that made him feel like he was looking at an actual cartoon.

 

Not to mention the voice! That crackling, growling, creaking, rattling, croaking, breaking, bone-chilling voice!

So noisily imperfect and oscillating, grave like the depths of an underwater crypt, and Joey loved it. The perfect voice for a mischievous little demon, although the thought of Bendy speaking in such a tone felt much more like a horrifyingly sour note to anyone who could have had a little bit of musical sense in their ear.

 

He stopped at a page filled with headshots looking in every direction. Where the face should have been sat only a pair of eyes - the rest was void, either of the color of the paper’s already yellow-ing white or of a pen’s black sign. In some cases, the beginning of a mouth could be recognized, a line morphing into a wide number of shapes to give the round irises some sort of emotion. At times one could even get a glimpse of a pair of teeth, maybe even four, ten, a whole row. There were studies of both upper and lower halves of a maw up in a corner.

A little under the heads figured whole bodies in different postures, most if not all crouching or bending forward in some way. He gazed a little longer on a drawing depicting the nightmarish cryptid of a factotum on the ground, in the pose of a large threatened feline about to strike: back arched in the sky, legs tense, gusty hair poofed in rage, a hand raising with every finger morphed into a sharp claw. He rubbed under his own fingertips by reflex.

 

Eska was callous and bony all over his body almost by nature, with near-invisible scars and barely any flesh to cover how much he was used to labour, but his fingertips weren’t worn in the slightest. As if nothing was able to scratch them, scar them, bruise them. Eska’s fingertips were soft.

 

The sudden touch of something smooth and cold made him jolt, and a little pitch black arm jolted with him.

He stared at the small, impish grin that seemed to mock him endlessly.

 

Something inside of him died.

 

“Where have you gone now, you little menace?” a booming voice called, immediately followed by a proportionately huge smile sporting a gap between the molars. Joey lunged for the small devil and almost fell flat to the floor, his target jumping on his back with a whistling giggle and running away to be chased all over again.

 

Joey laughed a little, excited, like a child, as he stopped a second to catch his breath. He looked up to find the gaze of frowning irises colored in gleaming gold on his face. The animator merely smiled.

 

“You’re not very threatening, you know?”

 

There was no response. Silent treatment, that’s what he was trying to go for now, huh?

 

“Oh, stop looking at me like that. I’m just playing around.”

 

“For her.”

 

Frankly, he should have seen this coming. He should have. From the second he’d proposed it, he should have known how it would have ended. Oh, he was a great man, Joey Drew, he was. So great as he spoke to the masses and appeased them with ease, so great as he drew and animated and came up with ideas, so great at convinvincing, so great at empathizing, so great in his selfishness, so great in his ego, so great in making profit as much as he could even when the situation was desperate.

 

“This was supposed to be for her. So she might come back.”

Out of his carefully fitered lips escaped a: “You are an awful opportunist.”

 

“Watch your language, Grosso.” Joey threatened. His sudden sharp frown was replaced in a second, but his eyes remained small and hard as small stinging pebbles racing down a mountain side, forewarning a coming avalanche, “I’m just testing. It worked with your son, and now I tried to see if it would work with  _mine_. Isn’t that fair?”

 

“I haven’t seen Eska yet.” he replied. There was a brake in his mind to stop him from talking further, but he didn’t care for it. “I haven’t seen him since then.”

 

“That’s because-”

 

“I haven’t seen him since you brought him into that room after he formed.”

 

“- he’s-”

 

“Why can’t I? You said he was ok. I could visit him. Why don’t you let me?”

 

“- uns-”

 

“You haven’t sent anything to tell her, have you. You haven’t, have you?”

 

“- Kim-”

 

“Where is he? Where is my son? What did you  _do_ to him?”

 

“-  _Kim-_!”

 

“Did you get rid of him again after you got proof that this worked?”

 

“SHUT YOUR _FUCKING_ MOUTH!”

 

He nearly fell to the ground, ducking as the papers scattered all over the floor and grey eyes barked against him, burning. A crutch passed inches over his head, only barely not hitting his temple.

He’d forgotten how Joey’s anger could be.

 

“SO YOU THINK YOU CAN QUESTION ME? QUESTION MY INTENTIONS? HOW MUCH I LOVE HER? HOW MUCH I  _MISS_ HER? THIS IS FOR HER. IT’S ALWAYS BEEN AND IT WILL ALWAYS BE, AND ALTHOUGH I WANT HER BACK MORE THAN I WANT TO LIVE I  _STILL_  CAN’T CONTACT HER BECAUSE ESKA IS  _UNSTABLE_. THAT’S WHY  _YOU_ ’RE NOT ALLOWED NEAR HIM, WHY  _SHE_ ’S NOT ALLOWED NEAR HIM, WHY  _NOBODY EXCEPT **ME**_  IS ALLOWED NEAR HIM. AND IF YOU’D JUST SHUT YOUR GODDAMN MOUTH  _ONCE_  AND LET ME EXPLAIN HOW THINGS ARE TO YOU I WOULDN’T HAVE HAD TO YELL, YOU FAITHLESS IDIOT!”

 

He didn’t answer and remained curled up on the floor, legs abandoned, his head shielded with his arms, an eye of gold peaking through his armor of bone and flesh to see the other man breathe furiously through gritted teeth.

 

After a couple of moments, Joey deflated. Let his abdomen and head loll towards the ground, only held up by his leg and the cruthces on which he leaned heavily. His forehead rested against his arms. He didn’t apologize: he turned his back on the man and stammered away without a word.

 

“Put them back where you found them.” the animator muttered as he passed the door, “And make sure none of them is missing.”

 

As he slowly collected the papers, the toy maker wondered if it was worth it.

If any of it was worth it.

Maybe he should have let her mourn in the peace of her distant isolation.

 

A whistling laugh echoed from far away, and unintellegible words spoken by a loud, happy voice followed suit.

 

He waited until he couldn’t hear them anymore to put his hands in his hair.

 

_“Condolences.”  
_

_“You too.”_

 

Eska looked so alive on those papers, Kim thought.


	8. _ntest_n_

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING FOR GORE, BODY HORROR, SELF-CANNIBALISM AND SUICIDE

He was giggling. His arms pressed against his stomach, and he was giggling.

Joey took it as a sign of progress.

 

“How are you feeling?”

 

He giggled some more. It was a guttural sound that shook him whole without making it out of his wide white grin.

 

**“You tell me.”**

 

The animator smiled at him. He sounded like he was breaking.

With breaking comes acceptance, he reasoned, and with acceptance will come stability, and with stability will come a good reunion.

 

“No ‘I want to die’s today?”

 

He giggled a little louder this time. Joey could see his Adam’s apple move up and down with every laugh. The bib of his overalls, forced against his chest, moved weirdly, and so did the shirt behind it.

 

**“Maybe.”**

“Maybe?”

**“Maybe.”**

“So the therapy is working?”

 

He giggled again, bending down for a second or two before rising again. He kept shifting weight from one leg to the other, sometimes even shortly raising the one resting, as if in need of the bathroom. His clothes looked a little stained, perhaps from the leaking of his face. His breath was heavy.

 

**“Mayhaps.”**

“Oh, we’re using big words now!”

**“Yes, we are.”**

 

He kept on giggling. His eyes seemed abnormally large, and so did his smile.

Joey kept smiling back.

 

“What’s so funny?”

 

The snares of his overalls were loose.

 

“Is there something on my face?”

 

His shirt seemed to have been ripped.

 

He swallowed, not answering.

His arms let go of his clothes, their movement wide in a proud showcase.

Joey took the scene in calmly. At least, he did as long as it took his mind to recognize and process what had fallen to the floor with a wet sound, or what felt off about his chest and shirt, or why could he see his intestines -

Int _estines._

 

Joey screamed, one of his crutches falling on the floor as he took as many steps back as he could.

 

He opened his lipless mouth excessively to show a neverending new moon night circled by pearly white pillars, and he laughed. It was a horrible, pained sound, clawing and tearing at his throat with a hundred deep scratches, and it was  _loud._

He stumbled closer and closer to the glass until his ink stained palms were spread upon it and his forehead banged on the cold surface, eyes bulging as they stared deep into the animator’s, defiant, accompanied by that hideous laughter. His organs trailed after him, dangling from his nearly hollowed stomach, barely covered by the fabric, flesh and muscles that had been torn to shreds. The terrible smell of the ink, far too reminiscent of a carcass rotting in the sun after being exposed to a terrible pouring rain, was making its way out of the cell, and Joey felt his own insides twist as he was about to vomit.

He grabbed his still bleeding entrails with an angered yank, which earned from him a strangled cry - and Joey stared and understood and too late did pray to not notice that that noise was being made  _in pain_  - and his dark stained hands strenghtened the grip on them, nails stabbing and tearing the tissue.

 

 

And then he shoved the intestines in his mouth, and bit a large piece off.

 

Joey puked.

 

Joey fell to the floor, and puked every drop of bile and acid he had in his body.

 

**“IT IS BITTER!”**  came the voice from behind the glass as it swallowed its own flesh and blood, and there was agony inside of it,  **“ _BITTER!_  BITTERER THAN ANYTHING!”**

 

He howled a horrifying laugh, broken nails scratching madly with an awful screech against the glass as teeth tried to scrape it.

He was mad, mad, mad.

 

“ **IT HURTS AND IT’S BITTER! SO BITTER!”**  and he tore at his throat and banged his head and laughed louder, louder, louder,  **“SO BITTER!”**

 

Joey couldn’t look. He couldn’t bring himself to.

 

“ **KILL ME!”**

 

Joey couldn’t.

 

“ **KILL ME!”**

 

Joey couldn’t.

 

“ _ **KILL ME!”**_

 

Joey couldn’t.

 

The laughter mixed with an incessant clattering of teeth. It became a groaning, moaning, drooling sound, gurgling, seething, spitting angrily behind the transparent shield.

 

“ **OH! OH, YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW?”**  he screamed, and one of his nails pierced the glass with a crack.  **“YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW! YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW HOW TO KILL MYSELF!”**

 

Louder, louder.

He laughed louder.

 

“ **LOOK! LOOK!”**

 

Joey couldn’t.

 

“ ** _LOOK,_  I SAID!”**

 

Joey couldn’t, hiding his head behind his arms.

He screamed another laugh, yanking his hand away from the glass. A phalanx didn’t follow and remained stuck, oozing black liquid in a straight line, and he wheezed.

 

“ **YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW!”**  he yelled,  **“YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW HOW TO MAKE A NOOSE!”**

 

_Don’t you dare, don’t you dare-_

He took his intestines, laughing, teeth clattering, and merrily,  _merrily,_  he ripped them from his body with a blood-curling shout.

 

“ **LOOK! I HAVE A ROPE! I HAVE A ROPE!”**

 

Joey barely resisted the urge to puke again. The animator sealed his eyes shut tight, praying it would help, praying it would keep it all away.

 

“ **I HAVE A ROPE! AND NOW-”**

 

He shook so hard, and his whole face twitched, pained, mad, insane. His hands trembled so terribly he had to struggle to make the knot as he giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and  giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and  giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and _tied the other end to his ankle_ and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and  giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and giggled and -

 

“ **\- AND NOW I’LL KILL MYSELF!”**

 

The animator shivered as the deafening howling filled his self-inflicted darkness. He shivered and curled deeper into himself as the sound turned into a strangled wail, an innatural choking lament followed by flesh being torn by nine skeletal fingers to pull harder, tighten more, more, more around his throat.

 

Joey heard him stumble, crash against the walls, kick desperately (maybe he was trying to free himself, maybe he was trying to make it quicker, maybe he was trying to break his neck), choke, choke, choke on his drool, choke on his spit, choke on his blood, choke on a pitch black liquid that didn’t belong to him, that had been forced into him without his permission, choke on the life that shouldn’t have been running in his veins, in his jugular that was swelling insanely, on the brink of explosion, and laugh, laugh, LAUGH,  _LAUGH._

 

SO MUCH.

 

SO HARD.

 

SO LOUD.

 

 

He let out one last, desperate cry, and fell against the wooden wall.

 

His eyes rolled to the back of his head, his mouth froze open.

 

His pure white teeth peeked mischievously at Joey from a black canvas.

 

Finally.

 

 

**Finally.**


	9. R_pa_alo

God.

God no.

No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no.

This is not good.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

What happened?

God.

I messed up.

I messed up.

What happened?

 

Should I 

 

No.

No no no no no no no no no no don’t look.

Don’t look.

What happened?

I messed up.

God, I messed up.

 

Why did I 

Oh goddamn

God if Kim finds out

 

No.

No, he won’t.

Fix it.

 

It’s disgusting and horrible but

 

Fix it.

Breathe in, breathe out.

 

Okay. Okay. Sewing. How. Needle, thread - this isn’t going to work this isn’t going to work - yes it is shut up. Okay.

 

Anatomy? I’m not a fucking doctor, for God’s sake. Just. Just shove it all in. Okay - God this feels so awful it’s so awful I can’t I can’t I can’t - yes you can shut up - no I can’t I can’t - yes you can - no I can’t it’s so awful it’s too awf

 

Puke.

Fuck.

Puked.

Okay.

You good now, you fucking wimp?

Good.

Now fix it.

 

I can’t

 

Yes You Fucking Can.

 

Just. Shove it all in - he’s twitching oh God he’s hurting oh my God - shut the FUCK up. He’s not. He’s. Just shove the whole mess in - gently - gently.

 

Needle, thread. Okay. Okay. This has to work.

 

it won’t

 

Shut UP

 

it won’t I’m so sorry

 

SHUT UP

 

I’m so sorry

 

SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH

 

I’m so sorry I’m sorry I shouldn’t have done anything I should have never existed I make everything worse I’m sorry I’m sorry I just wanted you to come back please I can’t do this I have nobody else nobody else I feel so sick I can’t do this please we were friends I didn’t mean to be me I’m so sorry please let’s be friends and work together like we used to please I’m tired and I’m sorry I keep fucking up everything I touch and ruin everything and everyone I wanted to help I swear I didn’t mean to be his worst nightmare I didn’t mean to be a complete awful stupid terrible failure I swear I promise I swear I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorr

 

Fixed.

It’s fixed.

It’s okay.

I fixed it.

It’s okay.

It’s fixed.

I fixed it.

It’s okay.

It’s okay.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Wooden planks.

Of a yellowish brown.

Staring at him from the ceiling.

 

He twitched his fingers with a groan. He couldn’t feel his left pinky.

 

He shifted his head weakly left and right with what little strength was still resting inside his body, trying to get a grasp on his sorroundings through his still clouded hazy eyes.

 

He noticed the black splatters and pools and the thing looking down on him.

He began shivering uncontrollably.

From the surveilance cameras, he bore his teeth with his wide open mouth in a breathy rage awaiting his voice.

 

 

Joey forced himself not to flinch when the wails started.


End file.
